


Rodney gets a Well-Earned Apology

by ObsessiveExplosion



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, John Sheppard Whump, Rodney McKay Whump, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25593781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsessiveExplosion/pseuds/ObsessiveExplosion
Summary: John is captured and severely tortured, and when his team rescues him, he accidentally hurts Rodney in his confusion.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

John had no idea how much time had passed since he’d been kidnapped by the Genii. At first, he had tried to keep track of it by the changing of the light, but so little of it filtered deep underground to where he was being chained that he could never be sure if he was really seeing the sun rise or set or simply seeing flickering torchlight from somewhere else in the cave or even reacting to figments of his own imagination. Later, he had tried to keep track based on how often he was being fed, but after a while he started to suspect he wasn’t being visited at regular intervals, especially when the manacles started to loosen around his wrists.

After a while, the fever had made everything start to blend together. Maybe he had been trapped in this cave, sometimes being violently beaten by Genii and often completely alone, for no more than a few days. Maybe it had been months. Time felt stretchy and cruel, and when he was alone, he was scarcely registering anything anymore.  
The only thing he really still felt sure of was that no one would be coming for him. He had woken up on the Genii’s homeworld after being separated from his team via a weapon best described as a grappling hook to the shoulder and a syringe of some clear liquid in his neck. But he had been blindfolded and taken through a stargate, so now, he had absolutely no idea where he was. His team would have no way of tracking him.

And the Genii certainly weren’t going to release him. They wanted his military identification code, so they could use it to access Atlantis, and once he gave that up they would have no use at all for him. He would never betray Atlantis, but even if he were to, he didn’t think it would help. He would be chained in this cave until he died, which, based on the aching hunger and raging infection in his shoulder, might be fairly soon.

He had tried to think of an escape plan, but, once the fever had really set in, that had become pretty difficult. So far, his best idea was that he could wait until he lost enough weight that he could slip his hands out of the manacles, and then make a run for it.

He knew it wasn’t a very good plan. He just didn’t know what he would do if he really didn’t have anything.

John’s eyes slipped closed. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d last been fed, but he suspected it was a while. At this point, the gnawing in his stomach rivaled even the pain in his shoulder. His body was shutting down.

Slowly, the sound of voices filtered into John’s hazy fever delirium. He cracked his eyes open, just enough to see the outline of three figures, silhouetted by the dim light of the cave. They began walking towards him, and John froze.

“John?”

John frowned, and opened his eyes a little more. It almost sounded like...Teyla.

No, that couldn’t be right. He’d gated around who knew how many times, he’d been thrown into a cave on a planet that was most likely uninhabited, he’d been gone for...a while. This had to be a trick, whether it was a product of his own fevered mind or some game the Genii were playing with him. Well, he wasn’t going to let it fool him, however much he wanted to. It wasn’t real.

* * *

Rodney didn’t know what he’d expected, but this was probably worse. John had been missing for a week and a half, ever since the catastrophic ambush by the Genii. They’d only been a few hundred meters from the gate when the wicked-looking barbed weapon had burst through John’s shoulder and he’d stumbled and fallen to the ground. Rodney had followed his shouted orders to return to Atlantis and come back with reinforcements, and he’d been regretting it ever since.

By the time they’d returned, it was too late. The Genii soldiers were gone, and so was John. Rodney had spent the next week and a half searching for something, anything, that could show him where they’d taken him.

In the end, it was Teyla who’d uncovered the clue that had led them to this cave and the man in front of them who was barely recognizable as Sheppard.

John was kneeling, his wrists chained behind him in a position that had to be pulling horribly at his injured right shoulder. Even from here, Rodney thought it looked infected. John’s face was obscured by a combination of a thick beard and mottled bruises stretching over the side of his face, and his eyes were glittering with what Rodney thought must be fever.

Instinctively, Rodney took a step forward, and stopped as every one of John’s muscles tensed.

“Sheppard?” he asked, hoping the sound of his voice would snap John out of whatever delirium he was currently trapped in.

“John, it is alright. You are safe now.” Teyla stayed where she was, sounding so calm that even Rodney inadvertently relaxed. He waited for John to do the same, but the pilot stayed rigid.

“...can’t be real,” John finally muttered, so quiet that Rodney almost missed the words.

“What’s wrong with him?” Rodney asked, and he was unable to keep the strain out of his voice.

Teyla let out an almost imperceptible sigh, the only sign that she was just as anxious as Rodney was. “He has just...he has been through much in the past week.”

“We need to get the chains off,” Rodney said. Then, speaking louder, as if John were hard of hearing instead of...whatever was going on, “John? Can you...we’re going to get the chains off, alright? We’re going to get you out of here.”

John showed absolutely no sign that he had heard. Just continued to kneel silently, eyes aimed at the floor, still except for the faint movement of his chest and shoulders with each breath.

“No sudden movements,” Teyla said as Rodney slowly approached John. John didn’t react as Rodney moved behind him and knelt down so he could work at the cuffs. He didn’t say anything as lifted his hands slightly so he could get a better angle, and didn’t so much as wince when Rodney accidentally brushed the raw, damaged skin of his wrists.

It was eerie, if Rodney were completely honest. He knew John would be fine now that they’d found him, he wasn’t worried about that. John always was. But this was still...it was unfamiliar territory, and Rodney didn’t like unfamiliar territory. He wondered if John was on drugs. He would feel much better about the whole thing once they had gotten John back to Atlantis, and Carson could take a look at him.

It didn’t take Rodney very long to figure out the mechanism on the cuffs. He popped the lock with a bit of wire from his pocket, and then pulled the cuffs away from John’s raw skin as carefully as he could.

“There you go,” Rodney said. “You’re free now. All set. You’ll be good as new in no time.”

John still didn’t say anything or make any move to get up, but Rodney thought he saw his shoulders relax slightly.

Rodney stood up and kicked the cuffs a few feet away, in case John needed to hear the sound of the metal on stone to understand he was really free. “Alright then, now-”

Quicker than Rodney could follow, before he could even have a hope of reacting, John twisted. One hand swept up behind his knees, buckling them, and the other shoved hard at his thighs, knocking him over backwards. Rodney fell, landing on his arm with a sickening crack. Immediately, a lightning bolt of pain shot from his wrist to his shoulder. He gasped, still unable to process what was happening.

John pushed himself to his feet, looking unsteady but not moving any slower. Rodney squeaked and pushed himself backwards, clutching his injured wrist to his chest.

“Sheppard - John - it’s me, McKay…. ” Surely, the sound of John’s name, the sound of Rodney’s, they would snap John out of whatever this was. “John?”

John lunged.

* * *

They’d made a grave mistake when they’d unchained him. John didn’t know why his captors had set him free, but he wasn’t going to let them take him again. That was not an option.

John’s legs were cramped and stiff, barely usable, but John only needed to take a few steps. He let the adrenaline coursing through his veins keep him moving. He’d already dropped one of them, the one that had unchained him, but John wasn’t safe until they were all dead.

He’d start with the weakest. John half-jumped, half-fell onto the fallen man, pushing his left arm hard across the man’s throat, choking off whatever he’d been about to say.

He wasn’t going to let go until his attacker breathed his last.

Then there were hands, wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him back. John choked out a guttural cry as fingers clamped around the bloody wound at his right shoulder. He twisted frantically, slamming his left elbow backwards, aiming for his assailant.

“I am sorry about this, John.” He heard the words, still sounding too much like Teyla - or was that his imagination? - but the meaning was lost in his panic to escape.

It was only a matter of seconds before he was pinned. He struggled for all he was worth, but his muscles were slow to respond, and he was only moving with a fraction of his usual strength and speed.

He wanted to scream. This wasn’t happening, they couldn’t have subdued him so easily, he was never going to get another chance after this one. He wanted to scream and never stop.

But John wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction. He clamped his lips shut and continued to squirm, hoping desperately that he’d find some weakness to exploit.

“Lieutenant Ford, we must sedate him. I can continue to keep him pinned, but I fear that I may injure him further. Please, hurry.”

“He broke my arm!”

“McKay, we’re kinda busy right now!”

The voices washed over him, turning into so much nonsense as John’s thoughts blurred into senseless panic. All he knew was that he was losing his only chance to escape, and he couldn’t have that. He had to...he had to get back to his team….

He struggled fiercely, his bare arms scraping across the rough stone floor. This much movement was making his injured shoulder cry out with pain. He panted for breath, trying to get any leverage against the strong arms that held him down.

And then someone else was next to him, and there was a small pinch in the crook of his elbow. Instantly, he felt something warm and heavy flowing through his veins. He closed his eyes, dragged them open, closed them again.

His last conscious thought was that it really did sound like Teyla, and it sounded like she was apologizing.

* * *

Rodney had broken his wrist twice, once when he was a child and had crashed into a tree while sledding, and once during the mandatory physical training he had gone through before being selected for the Atlantis mission. This most recent time was a fresh enough memory that he was quite certain his arm was broken now. He had known pretty much the instant his wrist had cracked against the rock.

But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

Rodney wasn’t really sure what was happening with John anymore. He had stopped paying attention. Instead, he was curled up on the stone floor, cradling his injured arm against his chest, trying to understand what had happened. Had that...had it really been John?

Rodney finally mustered the strength to sit up and look around. Teyla was slowly straightening up, leaving John lying limp, crumpled on the ground below her.

“What’s…,” Rodney’s voice caught in his throat, and he had to swallow hard and try again, “what’s wrong with him?”

“Ford just administered a sleeping drug,” Teyla said worriedly. “He should wake up in an hour or two. I don’t want to give him much more than that until we know...more about what has happened.”

“No,” Rodney said, shaking his head. “I mean...he attacked me. Right? You guys saw that? He jumped on me. He broke my arm.”

Teyla’s back tensed slightly, and she turned slowly towards him, eyes wide. “He-”

“My wrist,” Rodney said, holding it out like it was an offering. Even that small amount of movement made his throat tighten with pain. “Look.”

It could have been worse. There were no shards of bone sticking out of Rodney’s wrist, it wasn’t even obviously misshapen. But it was already starting to swell, and turn an ugly reddish-purple color. Teyla sucked in a small breath.

“What’s wrong with him?” Rodney asked again, fighting the urge to back away from John’s prone form. That was ridiculous...right?  
Teyla shook her head. “I don’t know. He has been through much. Hopefully, he is only confused. We shall know more when he awakes.”

“And if he isn’t?”

“He’ll be fine,” Ford snapped, and Rodney decided not to press the issue. Besides, his wrist was beginning to throb harder. He tore his eyes away from John, who looked awfully still lying there, and looked back down at his arm. Unfortunately, that just seemed to make the pain worse, and he winced and glanced away.

“Rodney. Take this,” Teyla told him, offering him a few pills. Rodney nodded and swallowed them, then got gingerly to his feet. He clutched his arm to his chest, waiting for the pain to abate.

Behind her, Ford was crouching down beside John, two fingers feeling for the pulse at his neck. Rodney watched, momentarily frightened. John did look so eerily still, what if they’d given him too much….

But Ford nodded and turned to Teyla. “We need to get him back to the jumper. Can you take his other side?”

As he spoke, he draped the Colonel’s left arm across his shoulders and straightened up, frowning. “Shit, he’s a lot lighter than I remember.”

Teyla’s mouth thinned as she went to support John’s other side. “They must have been starving him.”

Rodney felt a wave of anger directed at the Genii guards who’d kidnapped, beaten, and starved his friend, anger at an intensity he wasn’t used to. For a moment, he wished there had been more men waiting at the entrance of the cave, more people who could pay for what they’d done for John.

But as quickly as it had come, the anger was followed by a sickening feeling as he remembered the dead look in John’s eyes as he’d attacked. As badly as Rodney had wanted to rescue John, he wasn’t sure if the man they’d found was the man that had been taken.

The walk back to the jumper seemed to take hours, although Rodney knew it had only taken about fifteen minutes on the way in. Even accounting for Sheppard’s deadweight, it couldn’t possibly have been as long as the five hours it felt like. Rodney jumped at every sound, imagining anything from Genii guerilla soldiers to John having awoken and gone berserk again.

By the time they got back to the jumper, Rodney’s already stretched-thin nerves were in tatters, but at least the pain medication had begun to kick in. Or maybe the fringes of the panic attack he desperately wanted to give into were disguising the pain. Either way, Rodney supposed he was grateful.

Rodney was so strung out that it took him a second to realize that someone was calling his name. He looked up with a start, and realized that Teyla was staring at him, still keeping one arm wrapped around John’s limp body.

Rodney shook his head slightly to clear it, trying as best he could to keep his breath from shaking. “What?”

“You are needed to open the jumper,” Teyla said.

“What?” Rodney said again. Open the jumper? That was....

That was John’s job.

Rodney nodded slightly, and put his hand on the control panel. Somehow, he had forgotten that neither Ford nor Teyla possessed the necessary genetic makeup to fly the jumper back, and with John obviously incapacitated, that meant the job would fall to him.

Rodney tried to hide the fact that even just thinking about flying the jumper made his wrist hurt so badly it was all he could do not to cry. Not to mention the fact that he was really barely qualified to fly the jumper at all, he had only really flown it on a few select missions, and always with John right there, looking over his shoulder and warning him if he was about to make a mistake.

But John was pale and small, face a mess of bruises, chin limp against his chest, and he clearly would not be flying the jumper any time soon. And anyways, Rodney still wasn’t entirely the thing they had brought back even was John. He knew he had absolutely no choice in the matter, but that still...didn’t mean he had to like it.

Teyla must have been able to read something of this thought process in his face, no matter how much he was trying to hide it, because she said, “I’m sorry, Rodney.”

“I-“ Rodney broke off, tucking his arm more firmly against his chest as it gave a particularly nasty throb, “I’m not sure I can...do this.”

“I’ve seen John fly plenty of times,” Ford said, surprisingly kindly. “I’ll sit next to you, and I can help too, even if I can’t work the controls myself.”  
Rodney nodded slightly. He appreciated the effort enough that he refrained from mentioning the fact that, considering his broken wrist, the controls themselves were going to be by far the biggest problem.

But, since Rodney didn’t really want to stay stranded on an alien planet barely a stone’s throw from a colony of Genii, there was nothing to be done but to do it. Within the span of a few minutes, John was settled as comfortably as possible in the back, Teyla kneeling next to him, and Rodney was seated anxiously at the controls.

Rodney took hold of the joysticks, trying desperately to ignore the sharp burst of pain pulsing through his wrist. Cautiously, he brought the jumper off the ground, still half-expecting to hear John’s voice in his ear, telling him not to be so hesitant with the controls. He closed his eyes, trying to bring himself back to the present. Then, he remembered that he was flying a huge hunk of metal, and having his eyes closed was probably a terrible idea. Equally quickly, he snapped them back open to find Ford staring at him worriedly. It was going to be a long flight back to Atlantis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been posting on FF for a while now, and I have a ton of fics over there! I'm in the process of trying to get fics in both places, and I'm going fandom-by-fandom, starting with SGA. I have a lot of whumpy SGA fics coming in the next few months. If I've done something wrong with the tagging or formatting, please let me know!


	2. Chapter 2

The cave was cold, the kind of cold that set deep into your bones and made you think you might never be able to warm up again. It was cold enough to make John shiver, which pulled his injured shoulder against the chains, shooting constant twinges of pain through his body. John closed his eyes, only to open them with a start as his head snapped around.

John spat blood and looked up at the man who’d hit him. John couldn’t quite make out his face, blurry as his vision was, but he didn’t suppose it mattered.

“Identification code.”

John just shook his head silently, gasping as the torturer kicked him in the ribs. He felt something crack, gritting his teeth to keep from crying out.

“Identification code.”

“Forty two.”

This time, the fist was aimed at his bad shoulder, and John lost the battle to keep silent. His breath escaped in a strangled gasp as the Genii dug his thumb into the open wound, and his vision faded out as blood began to trickle down his shoulder.

“Identification code.”

It was just a haze of pain after that, blows landing again and again, the hunger and the cold growing until John barely knew where he was, and through it all, the steady voice asking for John’s code.

“John?”

That was new, they’d never said his name before. Through the confusion and the pain, John felt a hand touch his shoulder - not the bad one this time - and he jerked away involuntarily.

“John.”

What were they planning? They’d changed the script, and that probably meant bad news for John. He struggled frantically, one last-ditch effort to get free.

“John, open your eyes.”

His eyes were closed? When had that happened? John did as the voice instructed, then squinted in utter disbelief.

“Teyla?”

It couldn’t be, there was no way his team could have found him. But Teyla smiled and moved to the side slightly, and John recognized the interior of the jumper.

“You are safe, John.”

John blinked, feeling the tension dissipate slightly, for the first time in who knew how long. And as it drained away, the pain hit. He remembered his shoulder hurting before, so it wasn’t a surprise when he twisted slightly and the throbbing pain from the swollen, infected skin took his breath away. But what he wasn’t expecting was the pins and needles that raced up and down his legs with even the smallest movement, the aching hunger gnawing at his stomach, the swirling feeling behind his eyes whenever he tilted his head.

John opened his mouth, found it was too dry to form words. Swallowed hard and tried again. “What...happened?” he whispered.

“You are safe now,” Teyla whispered. “We got you out.”

Teyla was still touching John, pressing gently on his uninjured shoulder, probably trying to keep him from sitting up too fast. Normally, John had no problems with that sort of gentle, friendly touch, but after at least a week of torture, even the light pressure of her hand made him squirm. He was having difficulty getting his eyes to focus for more than a second at a time, and the movement of the jumper made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

He wasn’t convinced any of this was real. It felt...he couldn’t possibly be here, in his jumper, with Teyla. That was too good to be true.

John’s breathing sped up involuntarily. He didn’t understand what was happening, and he didn’t like it. He tried to sit up, forgetting about Teyla’s hand on his shoulder, and was immediately pushed back down on the bench.

“Do not try to move just yet,” she said.

“Is he...he’s awake back there?” Rodney yelled from somewhere up in front of John.

Rodney....Rodney was here too. Had they really gotten him out? John tried to think back on his last memory in the cave, but his mind was a frustrating blank. The whole last week was just a blur of fear and pain.

John vaguely heard Teyla call out a response to Rodney, and then some small part of him registered that Rodney answered. But he knew that he was weak, and the exhaustion of his ordeal was already starting to catch up to him. He closed his eyes.

Teyla’s hand on his cheek. “John, please do not fall asleep just yet. We have to know-”

John couldn’t form a response. He thought he heard Rodney yelling something like “Is it really him?”from the front of the jumper but on further reflection he thought he must have imagined it.

“Teyla-” he whispered. And there had been something he wanted to say, but it was forgotten. He let himself relax slightly against the metal of the bench, and then he was out again.

* * *

By the time they made it back to Atlantis, Rodney’s world had narrowed to the controls, Ford’s instructions, and the pain. Even with the medication, the ache in his wrist had grown until it was a constant throb, consuming his thoughts. He thought that at one point John had awoken, but he was too focused on flying to really pay attention to what was happening in the back of the jumper. Teyla had sounded reassured rather than upset, so Rodney supposed it had been good news.

Rodney still wasn’t convinced. Every time he managed to pull his eyes from the windshield display to glance towards the back of the jumper, his wrist gave a sharp twinge that Rodney couldn’t possibly ignore. It wasn’t John, not right now. It couldn’t be. The John Sheppard that Rodney knew was loyal to a fault, surely capable of violence, but never against his teammates. John would never have been able to hurt Rodney like that, he never would have looked at any of them with murder in his eyes.

Which meant it couldn’t be John. Not yet. Rodney gave an ill-disguised shudder as Atlantis approached in the viewscreen, and managed to turn his attention back to the landing at hand.

As soon as Rodney brought the jumper to a juddering halt and opened the back hatch, the small ship was filled with medical staff bustling around officiously. Rodney merely sat there at the controls, nursing his wrist and waiting for someone to notice him. Usually, he’d have demanded immediate attention by now, but he could hear Carson’s worried voice saying John’s name, and Rodney somehow couldn’t summon the energy to get out of the seat. He felt oddly detached, as though he were floating. That was probably due to the painkillers, he thought distantly.

“Rodney also requires medical attention.” That was Teyla. It took a few seconds for Rodney to process her words, but he got there eventually. He looked up to find a doctor in front of him. She took hold of his wrist, and he hissed in protest, fighting the urge to pull away.

“How did this happen?” she asked, and Rodney suddenly felt ill.

Major Sheppard, he thought. Sheppard, trying to kill me.

“I fell,” he managed to say around the sudden lump in his throat.

“You’d better come to the infirmary as well,” she said, gently pulling him upright. Rodney followed, still feeling as though he were moving underwater. At the back end of the jumper, John was being loaded onto a stretcher. He was still unconscious, looking awfully small and pale against the white sheets. He didn’t look dangerous. He looked young, despite the week’s growth of beard and the lines of pain around his eyes. He looked like someone who needed protecting.

But whenever Rodney closed his eyes, he heard the snap of his wrist breaking and saw the look in John’s eyes as he tackled him. Even if it really was John on paper, if he hadn’t been replaced with a copy or erased like a computer, if he had somehow avoided being brainwashed or drugged into oblivion, if there had been no wraith DNA added to him or...or anything else the Genii were able to think up, it still...couldn’t be John. If this John were capable of such outbursts of sudden, destructive violence towards those who were trying to help him, then it wasn’t the John that Rodney knew. The ten days of torture must have changed him, somehow. As much as Rodney wanted him to wake up, so he would know he was alright, he was also desperately afraid.

Rodney followed John’s limp body towards the infirmary, still being gently guided by Teyla. But once they arrived, John was brought into one room, and one of the nurses was gesturing for Rodney to go wait in another.

Teyla froze, and looked back at Rodney with wide eyes.

“Go with the Major,” Rodney said, his voice an uncomfortable, pained-sounding croak.

But, to Rodney’s surprise, Teyla shook her head slightly and followed Rodney into the makeshift waiting room. Rodney caught a glimpse of Carson leaning anxiously over

John’s limp body, a parade of wires and tubes and beeping machines, and then the door between them was shut and Rodney and Teyla were alone.

“How is your arm?” Teyla asked, somewhat distractedly.

Rodney didn’t want to take any attention away from John, not when it was clear he was still in such bad shape, but he was rather afraid that if someone didn’t come in to look at him soon, he was going to pass out. He just nodded slightly, hoping that would serve as a sufficient answer.

They sat in silence for a moment. Rodney felt himself slipping, and he tried to force himself to focus on Teyla again, if only to keep himself grounded until he could be seen.

“What...what happened?” he finally asked, and he was embarrassed to find that his voice was trembling slightly. “With Sheppard?”

“I am not sure,” Teyla said softly,

“But he...woke up on the jumper, right? And he seemed normal then?”

Teyla nodded. “He was confused, and...very weak. It did not seem that he remembered being rescued. But...yes. He seemed to be the John that we know.”

Rodney nodded slightly. He hadn’t been sure. But that made it...worse, somehow. If it had been John in the jumper, then it had been John in the cave, and Rodney didn’t know him as well as he thought he had.

Rodney swallowed painfully around the sick feeling in his stomach that had nothing to do with the pain in his arm. Teyla was looking at him, concerned, but Rodney didn’t think he could reassure her, not when he felt so off-balance himself.

* * *

Rodney’s wrist was, in fact, broken. It was only a minor fracture, but Teyla was still horrified to think that Rodney had been injured by John, their leader and their friend. From the look in Rodney’s eyes, he was equally distressed.

Teyla understood, of course. John had been missing for ten days, and judging from the way his ribs had stuck out of his chest and the half-healed bruises covering his torso and back, he must be half-dead from hunger and pain. He hadn’t known where he was when they’d first found him, that much was clear. It was understandable that he’d lashed out.

Even so, it had been...frightening. And she wasn’t even the one that John had attacked.

Teyla cast one last glance at Rodney before leaving to see how John was doing. The doctor had casted Rodney’s wrist and given him a few painkillers before advising that he get some rest. Teyla had half-expected him to ask to see John, but Rodney had merely nodded and curled up on the bed.

Teyla winced and slipped out of the room, hoping that Rodney would work through his trepidation before John woke up. She didn’t want to have to explain why Rodney wasn’t there.

John’s room was somewhat less crowded now, the nurses having filtered away. The only people left were Dr. Beckett, fussing over some sort of machine hooked up to John, and Ford, sitting in a chair beside John’s bed.

“Will he be alright?” Teyla asked immediately, crossing the room to stand at John’s side. She’d expected him to look better, once they’d gotten him back to Atlantis, but he somehow just looked smaller, more vulnerable. The grime from the cave had been cleaned off his face and arms, revealing the bruises underneath in stark colors. The tattered shirt had been replaced by a clean pair of infirmary scrubs, which Teyla had only seen him wear a handful of times, the times she’d thought they might lose him.

Teyla sighed and touched John’s hand softly as she glanced up, waiting expectantly for Carson’s answer.

“Aye, he should be,” Carson said wearily, his voice carrying a tinge of anger. “Not for lack of trying on their part, though. He’s got three broken ribs, he’s severely dehydrated, and his right shoulder’s been badly injured. He’s developed an infection, not to mention he’s lost quite a bit of weight. But our Major Sheppard’s a fighter, and he’ll make it through.”

“How long will he need to stay in the infirmary?” Teyla asked. She knew less about medicine that she cared to admit, and she had no sense of whether John was looking at a few days in bed, or a few weeks.  
Carson shrugged slightly. “It’s difficult to say, not until we know how well he’s responding to the treatment. And knowing Major Sheppard, he’ll be here far less long than he should.”

“When will he...wake up?” Teyla asked softly.

Carson shook his head. “I don’t know. He’s already come to once, but it didn’t seem like he had any idea where he was. He just looked straight through me. Didn’t say a word.”

Teyla nodded slightly. She had managed to get John to answer a few simple questions when he’d woken up on the jumper, but even that had been difficult. He hadn’t wanted to stay awake for more than a minute or so, and she had never really been convinced he understood who she was and where they were taking him. She could very well picture him waking up, staring at Carson for a moment, and then going back to sleep.

“Have you administered a blood test?” Teyla asked abruptly.

“Aye,” Carson said. “Didn’t want to give him any sort of painkillers or sedation until we knew what was already in his system. It’s nothing, as far as we can tell. They didn’t give him anything.”

Teyla nodded slightly, trying to look encouraged, but her heart was twisting. Part of her had known John being drugged when he attacked Rodney was...a desperate hope, and something that would really probably be worse for all of them in the long run. But it was still...difficult to hear that there really was no other explanation, that it had simply been John.

“How’s Mckay?” Carson asked. “Meant to check in on him, but-” He gestured vaguely at John’s limp body.

“He is...alright,” Teyla said, thinking it might be best not to mention how much Rodney had complained over the past hour, and how much pain he seemed to be in.

“Complaining?” Carson asked knowingly.

Teyla simply nodded.

“Aye, that sounds like Rodney,” Carson said. “How’d he break it, anyway?”

Teyla sighed. She knew that Rodney had told one of the other doctors that he’d fallen, which was understandable. But at the same time, it was better that Carson knew the full extent of his patient’s condition. If John woke up and was still unsure where he was….

As it turned out, she didn’t need to say anything. Carson glanced towards John’s very fragile and not-at-all-threatening looking figure, and his eyes widened.

“It was Major Sheppard, wasn’t it?”

Ford, who’d been silent up until this point, half-rose from his chair. “He didn’t know where he was, or who we were. We shoulda been more careful.”

Carson looked towards Teyla quizzically.

“The Lieutenant is correct,” she said carefully. “He did not seem to know us. If he awakens again and once more appears...confused….”

“Aye, that’s good information to have,” Carson muttered, glancing back at John once more. Ford scowled, slumping back into his chair. Teyla took the chair next to him, beginning the long vigil of waiting for John to wake up, and hoping they recognized the man who opened his eyes.

* * *

Voices, voices and light. John was lying on something soft, and he almost felt comfortable. He froze for a heartbeat, trying desperately to understand what was going on.

Where was he? Did the Genii still have him? If so, why weren’t they hurting him?

John felt his heartbeat speed up, his breathing increase, and the voices turned from a calm murmur into a tense-sounding buzz. John forced his eyelids opened and tensed his muscles, prepared to fight or flee.

But it was Teyla’s face that met his eyes, and behind her, Ford. John blinked at them in utter confusion for a few hazy seconds before a disjointed memory of waking up in the jumper swam slowly through his mind. He’d been rescued. His team had found him.

Team. Teyla, and Ford, and...something was wrong. John’s thoughts felt like they were moving through molasses, but he knew there was something missing. Teyla was talking to him, but he was too busy trying to remember what he’d forgotten to answer her, or even to understand what she was saying.

“Welcome back, John. It has been nearly two days.”

“You had us worried, sir.”

John abandoned any attempt to decode their words, instead grasping at the few shreds of coherent thought that remained to him.

“Rodney,” he finally said triumphantly. That’s what had been missing, his team was here, but Rodney was…. “Where...?”

Teyla frowned. John frowned too, a little unsure why she would be upset. Maybe he wasn’t making as much sense as he thought, which wouldn’t be surprising, considering that his head felt like it was floating.

“He is...in his lab,” she finally answered, still frowning slightly. John still couldn’t quite grasp why - McKay being in his lab was a perfectly normal thing for him to do. John thought. He wasn’t really sure of anything at the moment.

“Alright,” John said. It was now occurring to him that he wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to stay awake. He looked down at his arms, there was a large tube sticking out of one of them, feeding him an unknown mix of clear drugs. Probably some sort of sedation, although he supposed his exhaustion could just be a result of...whatever it was that he had gone through. Which was presumably a lot.

Either way, his eyelids felt horrifyingly heavy, and just the effort of keeping them open was making his head ache with a steady thrum. His thoughts felt muddled and slow, and he didn’t think he would be able to do more than move his head even if his life depended on it.

“He was by earlier though,” Ford added helpfully. “Now he’s just-“

Teyla shot Ford a glance that John didn’t even have hope of interpreting. “Well tell him if he wants to see me-“

John trailed off. He had meant to say that if Rodney wanted to see him he had better hurry, because he wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to be able to stay awake. But he could practically feel his breathing slowing down, and he didn’t think he would be able to keep his eyes open long enough for anyone to actually get a message to Rodney, let alone for him to return from the lab.

“Wait, do not sleep just yet,” Teyla said. “Beckett wanted to see you when you woke up, he told me to-“

John nodded vaguely, and he heard more than saw a flurry of motion as either Ford or Teyla got up to get Carson. He let his eyes slip closed. He really was...exhausted. With all the drugs coursing through his veins, the memories of his time with the Genii were no more than a hazy blur, but they...they really must have done a number on him, for

him to be feeling like this.  
Carson came in some time later, and John forced his eyes open.

“Hey Doc,” he said sleepily.

“Major!” Carson said. “It is good to see you awake. You were badly malnourished when they brought you in, not to mention the nasty infection in your shoulder. I hope you’re not in pain now?”

No, there was no pain, but he was still so tired. He had the sense he needed to give some sort of response, so he shook his head slightly.

“I just had a few questions about what happened to you during your time with the Genii, that’ll help me be able to....”  
John was too exhausted for questions. He knew Carson was still talking to him, looking for answers, but he let himself drift off with Carson’s voice as a faint side note in the background.


	3. Chapter 3

Rodney stared at his computer screen, reading the display for what had to be the thousandth time. Just like the other 999 attempts, the words on the screen failed to resolve themselves into any kind of meaning.

"Rodney, we can finish this." Zelenka looked over from his workstation, seemingly concerned. "Get some rest. Or you can go see the Major, I'm sure-"

"No," Rodney snapped, then winced inwardly at the look on Zelenka's face. "Thanks, but I'm sure he's still asleep. He's been in and out for two days, the chances of me catching him actually conscious are…."

"I know the chances, Rodney," Zelenka grumbled. "I just thought-"

"Thought you'd get rid of me?" Rodney asked, crossing his arms and hissing as he forgot about the heavy cast on his left wrist. "I'll have you know, even on painkillers I'm still twice as useful as you."

Zelenka rolled his eyes and went back to staring at his computer screen. "Nevermind," he said, beginning to mutter to himself in Czech. Rodney didn't speak the language, but he could guess the content.

Rodney sighed. It really wasn't Zelenka's fault, even he knew that. And he did want to visit John, really. It was just...he still couldn't reconcile the man that he knew with whatever had attacked him in the cave. And until John was awake, really awake, he wouldn't be able to. He didn't want to sit there in the infirmary, surrounded by his entirely-too-perceptive team, trying to hide or explain away his discomfort.

And besides, they probably wouldn't understand. Rodney was keenly aware that he was a scientist, not a soldier. Yes, he might know how to fire a gun - mostly - and he was a part of the team, but that didn't make him a warrior like Teyla, or a soldier like Ford or Sheppard. They probably considered what had happened some sort of occupational hazard, just a line in some sort of logbook.

But Rodney didn't think that way. At the very least, he was going to need some time to process it. And he didn't think that he could do that without space.

Rodney returned to his computer, staring sightlessly at the lines of text. He just wished that he could take the time he needed without feeling like he was doing something wrong. Teyla wasn't a particularly angry person by nature, but Rodney was sure she'd noticed he wasn't spending as much time with John as she was, and she was probably rather upset about it. No, it was just easier to avoid the situation entirely, at least until he'd had some time to clear his head.

"You should at least get some rest," Zelenka said after a moment. His voice was a little softer now. "When was the last time you slept?"  
Rodney cast his mind back. He wasn't great at getting the proper amount of sleep even at the best of times. There was always so much he needed to do, and his thoughts had the tendency to race, especially when he finally actually laid down to close his eyes….

But the past few nights had been particularly brutal for Rodney. It felt that every time he closed his eyes, he saw John lunging at him, felt his arm crack against the cold stone of the cave floor. He wasn't having nightmares, which was something. Every time he actually managed to fall asleep, he stayed asleep fine. It was just getting there that was the problem. It felt that the foundations of his life had been yanked out from underneath him, and that wasn't exactly the best for relaxation.

"I slept last night," Rodney said defensively. Which was true. Kind of.

"Rodney-"

Rodney was also under no delusions that he was, in fact, injured. If he were John, he probably would have completely ignored the broken arm, maybe taking the painkillers he'd been prescribed if he felt like it and blatantly refusing to do any of the other care, even if it hurt him in the long run. Teyla probably also would have ignored it, although she seemed to have goddess in her genes or something and he couldn't picture her getting her arm broken in the first place.

But Rodney wasn't like that. He hadn't lost count of all the terrible injuries he'd received like John had, and he knew the broken arm was slowing him down. It throbbed constantly, even with medication, and the pills Carson had given him to take the edge off made him feel stupid and sick. Carson had told him he might have to go through a round of physical therapy once he got the cast off, which sounded at least as bad as whatever torture they had put John through.

Worse, Rodney knew he needed sleep if he wanted to heal. But he just...couldn't figure out how to make it happen.

"I'm fine," he said, more sharply than he meant to. Everyone around him had spent the past few days reminding him he needed rest. He wasn't actually angry with Zelenka, he was just...sick of it. He knew, better than anyone else, that he needed to rest. But it seemed that right now, that wasn't really an option.

* * *

Teyla smiled as John opened his eyes, blinking sleepily two or three times before he managed to focus. Gently, she squeezed his left hand, as best she could around all the wires and tubes.

"Hello, John," she said softly. It had been over a day since John had woken up long enough to have a conversation, but he'd seemed barely able to keep track of what was happening. Since then, he'd awoken twice, only for a few minutes each time. Teyla waited, hoping that this time, John would be able to stay awake. Behind her, Ford leaned eagerly over her shoulder.

"Hey," John whispered, eyes actually managing to track between their faces. That was new.

"How are you feeling?" Teyla asked.

John gave a one-armed shrug and a lopsided smile. "Good…."

Teyla translated that in her head as "pumped too full of drugs to feel anything" and returned his smile. He did look better, she thought. The bruises across his face had faded to yellow rather than the ugly purple, and the swelling had gone down. He was still far too thin, but his face had lost the frightening hollows he'd had when they found him. His eyes, too, looked ever so slightly more aware.

Too aware, Teyla thought sadly, as John scanned the room and came up empty.

"McKay?" he asked.

Teyla held back a sigh. It was clear that John didn't remember being rescued, which was probably for the best at the moment. He was still very weak, and Teyla didn't want to complicate matters by telling him what had happened to Rodney.

But Teyla was beginning to worry that the decision would be taken out of her hands. In three days, Rodney had only dropped by the infirmary for brief visits, always at odd hours when John would almost certainly be asleep. And at some point, John was going to notice. Whenever he was cognizant enough to process his surroundings, he'd asked after Rodney.

"In the lab," Ford said shortly, and Teyla shot him a glance, afraid that John would pick up on his tone.

She shouldn't have worried. John just blinked sleepily and nodded.

"Mmkay," he mumbled, then chuckled to himself. "Hey. Mmkay, sounds like McKay…."

Teyla wasn't sure how to respond to that. John's conversation was somewhat nonsensical at the best of times, and he was certainly not at his best now. She settled for patting the back of his hand and giving him an encouraging nod.

"Tell him...tell him…." John's head touched his chest, eyes slipping closed. Teyla thought he was out again, although honestly she was encouraged by the relative coherence he'd shown during this conversation.

"What is it, John?" she asked, not really expecting an answer.

"If you see Rodney, tell him...tell him I said hey…."

"We will, John," Teyla said softly, swallowing around a lump in her throat. She didn't really want to talk to Rodney - she wasn't sure how to do it without sounding confrontational, and to be completely honest, she couldn't exactly say that it was unfair for him to be nervous around John now. It just hurt. "Do you need to go back to sleep now?"

John rocked his head back and forth on the pillow, looking offended that she had even suggested such a thing. "I've been sleeping for...too long," he said, blinking with exhaustion. "It's been…."

His eyes slipped closed.

"You were very badly injured," Teyla said. "Your body must have rest if you are to recover. It is alright."

John frowned slightly. "Don't need rest."

"You do, sir," Ford piped up from the corner.

"This is...stupid, I should be...running or-"

He trailed off, eyes slipping closed again. "You definitely should not be running right now," Teyla said gently. "Just go to sleep."

John opened his mouth, looking like he was going to argue again, but before he could, his eyes were closed and he was out like a light.

* * *

Rodney was greatly enjoying breakfast - there were still a few treats left in the freezer which were brought out occasionally, today they had bacon - when he felt someone settle down next to him. He looked up, not quite angry yet but a little annoyed to be interrupted during the best meal he'd had in weeks, and saw that it was Ford. He blinked.

"What do you want?"

He hadn't meant for it to come out meanly, but it did.

"I...think you should go visit the Major. He's going to notice you haven't."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Rodney said dismissively, turning back to his food. "I've visited the Major at least three times."

"When he's awake," Ford said firmly. "He asks about you, you know."

Rodney's stomach lurched, and suddenly, the bacon didn't look so good after all. He was not going to feel guilty about this, he told himself firmly. He just needed time.

"I've been busy," Rodney muttered.

"Doing what?" Ford snapped. "It's the Major, McKay."

"Doing my job," Rodney fired back. "With a broken wrist, I might add. It complicates matters."

"That was an accident," Ford hissed. "You know that. He'd been tortured, remember?"

"No, I'd forgotten," Rodney growled.

"I thought you guys were close," Ford said, throwing up his hands in frustration. "Just get over yourself and go see him."

For possibly the first time in his life, Rodney found himself without a rejoinder.

"I have work to do," he said with as much dignity as he could muster, abandoning his bacon with barely a second thought.

"McKay-"

Rodney swept off, ignoring Ford swearing behind him. Seething, he marched back to his lab. It wasn't his fault that he wasn't a soldier, and it was unreasonable to expect him to be.

"I'm a scientist," Rodney muttered to himself as he stomped down the hallway. "I didn't sign up for this. Not in the slightest."

With no small amount of effort, Rodney banished all thoughts of Ford and Sheppard and their ilk. He would visit Sheppard later. Once he'd had some time.

* * *

John was back in the cave, arms chained behind him, stone walls cold and dripping. Or maybe, he'd never left. He couldn't be sure. Everything was hazy, his memories jumbled into a sharp collage of pain and fear and a jagged collection of faces and voices.

Someone was coming. John stilled, staring determinedly at the floor. Let them think that he was broken, that he wasn't a threat, and maybe he'd find an opening. Time slowed down, then sped up, and then he was hearing the clink of the cuffs against the rocky floor beneath him. Everything jerked to a halt again, and John sprang.

The Genii pinned beneath him was scared, wide-eyed and gasping for breath as John cut off his airway. Good, he should be scared. He had no idea what John was capable of.

John increased the pressure on the man's throat. The Genii mouthed something, reaching towards John's face. John snarled and pressed down harder, and whatever the Genii had been trying to say came out in a garbled rush of air.

It almost sounded like his name.

John paused, then blinked, and suddenly the man pinned under his arm wasn't a Genii at all, it was Rodney, eyelids fluttering and lips beginning to tinge blue. John felt hands on his shoulders, and he was wrenched back to awareness with a gasp.

He was lying flat on his back in the infirmary, covered in a thin scratchy blanket, the sharp stick of a needle reminding he was hooked up to any number of drugs, the steady beeping of numerous monitors confirming that while he was safe, he was still very weak.

He wasn't in the cave. He had been out of the cave for days. He knew that, he knew that. He was safe now, on Atlantis with his friends.

But Rodney….

Was that dream a memory? When his team had come to get him out, had he tried to kill Rodney, thinking he was Genii? The entire rescue and the few days following it were an exhausted, fevered blur for John. The only clear memory he could come up with was waking up in the jumper and talking to Teyla. But it had felt so real, and John had a horrible, sinking feeling in his stomach about the whole thing.

John managed to open his eyes, even though he was still tired and a large part of him wanted to just go back to sleep. As he had hoped, Teyla was seated in corner of his room, watching him with sharp but tired eyes.

"Teyla?" John whispered. His voice was soft from disuse.

"Do you need something?" she asked immediately. "Water?"

John shook his head. "When you rescued me did I...hurt Mckay?"

Teyla didn't answer immediately, but she didn't need to. Her eyes widened, and that said everything it needed to.

"What happened to him?" John said.

"The important thing is that he is fine now," Teyla began, but John shook his head to cut her off.

"Teyla," he said, trying as hard as he could to keep his voice steady. "What happened to him? What did I do?"

Teyla sighed, flicking one of her hands slightly like she wished she could brush the entire situation away. "His...ah, his arm was broken in the struggle. But it was not a bad break. It is healing well."

John closed his eyes as the world swirled around him. He had broken Rodney's arm. Rodney had come to rescue him, and John had attacked him. He had hurt him, badly. Rodney trusted John, and John had broken his arm.

"Is that why he hasn't come to see me?" John asked. It was a stupid question, he knew. Not the right one. But it made it seem as if Rodney hated John now, and even though that was perfectly justified, it still hurt badly enough that John thought he would rather just get the whole thing out of the way now.

"He has come to see you," Teyla said gently. "You have been asleep."

John appreciated what Teyla was trying to do, but he'd been back in Atlantis for almost four days, and as foggy as the first few had been, he remembered bits and pieces. He remembered seeing Teyla, Ford, Beckett, and even Weir. He didn't remember seeing Rodney, not once.

"Every time?" John asked quietly, but he didn't really need the answer. Teyla's face was enough.

"He will come," she said firmly, and attempted a smile. John wasn't overly reassured. Rodney was a scientist, not a soldier. He had been thrown into this situation, woefully unprepared, and John had hurt him. John couldn't really blame him for being skittish.

"I need to talk to him," John mumbled. There wasn't really much else he could do, other than apologize. Not that that would fix Rodney's broken arm, but it was the best he could do.

Teyla grimaced slightly, and John's insides twisted further. "I believe that he just...needs time."

John shook his head. Time, time wasn't the answer. This wasn't something that was just going to go away if they didn't address it. John had broken his friend's arm. He'd hurt someone he was supposed to protect.

"Teyla-" Without thinking about it, he went to push himself upright. His right arm was strapped to his chest, stabilizing his shoulder, and with only the use of his still-weak left arm, he didn't get very far before his strength gave out and he sagged back against the pillow.

"John, do not try to get up," Teyla said sharply. "You are still very weak."

John gritted his teeth. He knew he was very weak, that was painfully obvious. But he couldn't just lie back and let his best friend think that he wasn't sorry for breaking his fucking arm.

"Get Rodney," he demanded, allowing Teyla to push him back down. "Please," he added, after a few seconds.

Teyla glanced at him, and John saw her eyes soften slightly.

"I will try to find him," she said. "And John...do not worry. He will understand. Eventually."

John knew that she meant to be comforting, but all that he could focus on was how long "eventually" might be.

* * *

Teyla paused outside the door to Rodney's lab, gathering her thoughts before she knocked. She had barely seen Rodney since the rescue, as she'd spent most of her time in the infirmary. The few times that they had interacted, Rodney had seemed even more short-tempered and agitated than usual. He'd also been avoiding even the mention of John, aside from the standard enquiries about his health.

Teyla had been hoping that John wouldn't notice until he was better, but she'd underestimated him. Even so, she would have ideally rather delayed a confrontation until John was stronger, and Rodney had had more time to come to terms with the situation, but John's reaction had swayed her. Apart from a few obvious nightmares, John had yet to mention - or be outwardly affected by - the ten days of torture he'd endured. Yet as soon as he'd realized what he'd done to Rodney, he'd gotten a hollow look in his eyes that Teyla had never seen there before.

She could not...that simply could not stand. She understood why Rodney was shaken, but after everything John had been through in the past two weeks, Rodney was just going to have to deal with it for the time being. Teyla would drag him back to John's room kicking and screaming if she had to, although she had to admit that wasn't the option she prefered.

Teyla knocked on the door.

"Come in." Rodney's voice. Teyla took a moment to hope that he was alone.

She also took a moment to wonder if he would have let her in so readily if he had known who it was who had come for him, but that didn't really bear thinking about.

Teyla opened the door. Rodney was looking at rows of Ancient coding pulled up on a monitor, but Teyla knew him well enough to know his eyes were vacant - he wasn't really taking in any of what was in front of him. He was just trying to appear busy, to everyone else but also almost certainly to himself.

He was tapping occasionally at the keyboard using only his right hand - his left was still tucked protectively against his chest. Teyla wondered if it still hurt him. The few times she'd seen him, she hadn't thought to ask.

"What do you want?" Rodney said, voice carefully neutral.

"It is…." Teyla trailed off, swallowing around a sudden dryness in her throat. "It is about John."

Rodney was already shaking his head. "I don't know why everyone's bothering me so much about Sheppard," he said. "I, apparently unlike everyone else on Atlantis, actually have things I need to be doing. I'm busy. I don't have time to spend all day in the infirmary watching him snore."

This felt rather pointed. Teyla felt her anger rise for a second, but this was important enough that she carefully subdued it.

"He is no longer sleeping as much as he was before," Teyla said. "He wakes often now, for longer and longer periods."

"He's on so many drugs still that it doesn't really count," Rodney murmured, keeping his eyes trained on the screen in front of him. "He's like a...like a drunk baby. He's not even going to remember any of this. There's no point in me visiting him now."

"He asked for you today."

This got Rodney's attention. He didn't say anything, but Teyla saw his shoulders stiffen.

"He wants to know why you have not visited him yet. He has noticed, Rodney."

Rodney still didn't turn to face her. "If Sheppard really did wake up, I'm sure that he realizes I'm busy. Unlike you and Ford, apparently."

Ford. Teyla held back a sigh. The Lieutenant meant well, she knew that, but he and Rodney had clashed in the past. And in this matter, with Ford defending the commanding officer that he clearly hero-worshipped, she couldn't picture the Lieutenant being overly tactful. No wonder Rodney was not in a receptive mood.

But John's haunted look was in the forefront of her mind, and she wasn't about to let Rodney get away so easily.

"Rodney, he is upset," she said hurriedly, as Rodney closed his computer with a snap and began to exit the lab. "He wishes to talk to you."

For whatever reason, it had been the wrong thing to say. She watched as Rodney's shoulders tensed even more.

"Upset?" he said. "He's Sheppard." And he was gone, before Teyla could sort out how to set him straight.

The walk back to the infirmary was a long one. Teyla considered not going back at all, not until she'd found Rodney again and made him see reason. But she was partially afraid that if she took long enough, John would do something stupid, like try to find Rodney himself. As much as she wanted to save him this particular heartache, it was better this than letting him reinjuring himself somewhere in Atlantis because Teyla hadn't kept him informed.

As she neared the infirmary, she found herself hoping that John had fallen asleep again. He was still a long way from recovery, and he still spent much of his time sleeping. That would be better, Teyla thought. It would give her time to talk Rodney around. She dreaded actually having to tell John that his best friend wouldn't see him.

As it turned out, she didn't need to say anything. John's eyes were open and trained on the door as she entered the room, and as soon as she made eye contact, she saw his face go slightly paler.

"He's not coming, is he?"

John's voice sounded almost normal, but Teyla knew him well enough to hear the strain underpinning the words. John was very upset indeed. Teyla found herself wishing that she'd dragged Rodney back here, although she knew that would have done more harm than good.

Teyla shook her head, silently cursing both Rodney and Ford for exacerbating the situation. "I do not believe that he means to upset you. I think he is just being...stubborn."

John's lips twitched into a wry smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. Those stayed drawn and weary.

"I will try again," Teyla said hurriedly. She would say almost anything at this point, to get John to stop looking at her like that. "Perhaps you should get some rest. I will bring him here, I promise."

John made a noncommittal sort of sound, but he at least lowered his head onto the pillow. Teyla squeezed his uninjured shoulder softly and left the room, vowing not to return until she had succeeded in corralling Rodney.


	4. Chapter 4

John was not about to go to sleep, not again. He was not going to rest until he had located Rodney and had a good talk with him. He would tie him down and hold him at knifepoint if that's what it took to get him to listen to his apology. He was simply _not_ going to allow Rodney to believe...whatever it was that he believed right now. That John had hurt him on purpose. That he didn't care. That he wasn't really John.

It was a good thing Teyla was gone, because John couldn't exactly track down Rodney from bed, and he doubted she would be very happy with him wandering around Atlantis at this point. In fact, as important as this was, John himself wasn't even very happy with the idea of wandering around Atlantis at this point. As much as he wanted to be fine, he...wasn't. Coming back from the brink of starvation had left him weak and exhausted. The cocktail of drugs Carson was pumping into his veins was more or less keeping the pain at bay, but only if he kept from moving his shoulder too much. Otherwise, it made itself known with a vengeance. He hadn't yet walked farther than the distance to the bathroom and back, and even that left him shaky and gasping for breath. He wasn't at all sure how his damaged body was going to take this.

John took a steadying breath, steeled himself, and ripped the IV out of his arm. He wished he knew more about medicine, because he hadn't even the faintest idea how long the painkillers were going to stay in his bloodstream. Still, he figured there was nothing to be lost by working quickly.

Within five seconds of pulling the tubing out, a faint beeping started up. Another reason to hurry this process along. He figured he didn't have much time at all to get out of the room before Carson or one of the nurses noticed he was gone, although he supposed the quiet chirping was much better than the blaring alarm he'd half been expecting.

John shoved the blankets off, letting them pool on the floor. The hospital scrubs he was wearing underneath would certainly mark him as an escaped patient, but at this point he figured most of Atlantis knew what had happened, and he would have to mostly rely on not being seen by anyone anyways. At least the scrubs covered everything. He wouldn't have wanted to parade around in one of those open-backed gowns he had sometimes been made to wear on Earth.

John didn't let himself think too hard about standing up. He had to catch himself on the bed as soon as his legs took his weight - they threatened to buckle and send him spilling.

Carefully, he took the first step, his left hand braced against the wall. His legs trembled, still weak from his long confinement and his convalescence.

John gritted his teeth and continued walking. His shoulder and his ribs cried out in protest as he hobbled out of the infirmary, but he resolutely endured the pain. He'd been through far worse, and this was important.

At long last, John made it to the hallway. Without a second thought, he pointed himself towards Rodney's lab. Teyla had said he'd left, but John knew Rodney. The second that the scientist thought Teyla would stop bothering him, he'd have returned to the lab. That was where he felt safe.

John felt a sudden twinge of guilt, whether about violating Rodney's safe haven or about no longer being welcome there, he wasn't sure. Either way, he was betraying McKay's trust. Just one more thing that he should apologize for, he supposed.

John didn't even make it halfway to Rodney's lab before he had to stop for a break. His broken ribs were preventing him from taking in a full breath, and that combined with the pervading exhaustion were really beginning to sap his energy. Luckily, it was the middle of the night, and barely anyone was up and about.

He needed to hurry, before Rodney decided to join the rest of Atlantis and get some sleep. John pushed himself off the wall, swaying slightly as he caught his balance. He continued shuffling down the hallway, each step an excruciating exercise in endurance. He wasn't about to give up. John was going to find Rodney, and they were going to talk, and John was going to find a way to put this horrible sick feeling to rest.

* * *

It took Rodney longer than he'd expected to lose Teyla. The Athosian had followed him to the mess hall, to Zelenka's lab, and finally to his quarters, where he'd closed the door in her face. Really, she was almost as bad as Ford.

Finally, Rodney managed to evade her. As soon as she was gone, Rodney made a beeline for his lab. He could think much clearer there, and maybe he'd actually figure out what to do about the Sheppard situation. Soon enough, he was stepping inside, already mentally planning what he was going to work on.

"McKay."

Rodney definitely didn't squeal. Whatever sound he made - if he made a sound at all - was closer to a manly yell. Without really processing what was happening, he found himself flattened against the wall, blinking frantically at a shape that was quickly resolving itself into Sheppard, perched awkwardly in a chair.

" _Fuck_ …. Rodney, wait…." Sheppard levered himself out of the chair one-handed, his right arm tucked tight against his body in a sling. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

John took a step towards Rodney. Rodney didn't move, neither approaching nor retreating from John. He was still trying to process what was actually happening. John was...here, in his lab? Teyla had made it sound as if he was so injured still he could barely keep his eyes open, and yet he had somehow made it all the way across Atlantis to find himself sitting in Rodney's chair.

Rodney had the decency to feel ashamed for his first instinct, which was to cringe away. Not just because he was surprised by a presence in his lab, because he was startled, but because it was _Sheppard._

Back to finish the job. That had been his first thought, as horrifying as it was, and suddenly he was finding John a little hard to look at.

"McKay..." John took another half-step forward. His right leg buckled beneath him the second he put weight on it, and he barely managed to catch himself on one of Rodney's tables to keep himself from crashing to the floor. Rodney heard his sharp intake of breath - it was clear he was in a lot of pain still.

"Please, say _something,"_ John whispered, and Rodney realized he was still doing nothing but staring at his friend in horror. John took his hand off the table and took another step, swaying so alarmingly that Rodney was sure he would have fallen if he hadn't surged forward to catch him.

"You _idiot!_ " Rodney exclaimed. "Everyone...everyone makes it sound like you're a bad turn away from literally dying, and you're...wandering around Atlantis? On your own? Does Teyla know you're here? Does _Beckett_?"

Rodney caught a glimpse of alarm and confusion on John's face, but he ignored it in favor of forcefully manhandling him into a chair. John's weight made his arm twinge in pain, the pressure too much for his still-healing wrist, but he ignored that too. "Now _stay there."_

"Mckay..."

"What are you doing here?" Rodney demanded.

"I...just came to talk to you," John said weakly, still looking rather overwhelmed. Now that he was sitting, Rodney could see how desperately pale he was, the bruises on his face standing out in stark relief against skin as white as milk. There was a tremor in his hands, and his breathing was fast and shallow. He really did look as Teyla had made him sound, actually. Like someone who should certainly be horizontal in a hospital bed, at the very least.

"Why?" Rodney asked crossly. "You should _obviously_ be in bed."

John looked at Rodney through half-lidded eyes, his gaze oddly evasive.

"I know. Teyla said-" John tailed off suddenly, looking ill. Too late, Rodney realized what Teyla must have said, and he felt almost as sick as John looked.

John cleared his throat and began again. "This is important," he mumbled.

"Listen, I'm sorry I didn't stop by," Rodney began. "I've been busy-"

"McKay."

Even with a quarter of its usual volume, John's voice cut through Rodney's babble and Rodney cut himself off, looking at John uncertainly. John took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again, staring directly at Rodney this time.

"I'm sorry, McKay. Really sorry. When you found me, I...I didn't really know what was happening. I thought...I was dreaming, or something."

Rodney had not expected this. Yes, he'd thought that it would be nice if Sheppard addressed what had happened, but he hadn't actually expected the man to apologize, much less to drag himself all the way across Atlantis to do so.

John paused, grimaced, and continued.

"I didn't think...I thought you guys couldn't find me. We gated offworld, and…didn't think anyone was coming."

Rodney had no idea how to respond to this. He'd never seen this side of John before, and if he was honest, he hadn't actually realized that it existed. Sheppard always took everything with a smile and a shrug, and Rodney had assumed that there wasn't anything more there than that.

But John sounded...upset. Rodney guessed that he was on fairly high doses of pain medication, which allowed for the disjointed, scattered thoughts, but it didn't explain the agitation he saw in John's eyes, or heard at the edges of his voice.

"Rodney?"

John's voice was small, and a bit uncertain, and Rodney realized with a sudden jolt that he'd gone back to staring blankly at Sheppard.

"I understand," he said quickly. And he did, or at least he thought so. It was obviously a mistake, he'd known that all along, but Sheppard cared sufficiently about his well-being to drag himself across the city. Rodney began to have a sinking feeling that perhaps he'd been acting a bit unfairly.

"I broke your arm," John mumbled, head drooping slightly as the tension seemed to drain from him. "Sorry."

"Well, you hardly meant to, did you?" Rodney asked, slightly waspishly.

John shook his head. "Never hurt you on purpose."

And it was, in the end, that simple. What Rodney had known all along, but hadn't quite been able to articulate to himself, was that John would _never_ hurt him on purpose. He had made a mistake, and it was a mistake that had hurt Rodney, but that didn't make it something other than what it was. While it might be hard to remember while his arm was in a cast, Rodney could rest assured in the fact that John would never hurt him intentionally, and he would not hold it against him. For the first time since they had rescued him, Rodney felt ready to move forward.

There was something in John's bowed head, in the softness of his voice, that made it impossible not to.

"I know that," Rodney said.

John looked up at him then. His eyes were glassy with drugs, and he blinked rapidly at Rodney a few times, seemingly trying to form words but finding himself unable to. Finally, he nodded slightly.

"It'll heal up you know," Rodney said. "Beckett said it would heal just fine. I only have to keep this on for another two weeks. Doesn't hurt much anymore."

John nodded again.

"So it's really alright. Sometimes…." Rodney trailed off, unsure what it sometimes was. But John seemed to understand, because the smallest of smiles twisted the sides of his mouth.

"Let's get you back to the infirmary. You're going to scare everyone half to death. You really shouldn't be up and wandering around, you know."

"I know," John said, and there was just a hint of petulance, in a way that felt so much like _John_ that Rodney truly couldn't even imagine being angry with him.

Rodney carefully lifted John out of the chair, giving him a few seconds to gather his trembling legs beneath him before trying to move him forward. Rodney wrapped his uninjured arm securely around John's waist, trying to take as much of his weight as he could. Rodney hadn't realized it, not with John spending most of the last week lying asleep in a hospital bed, but he had lost a good deal of weight. Rodney could feel his ribs, the sharp angles of his shoulders. He felt...fragile, in a way that was a little frightening but also made a strange surge of protectiveness run through Rodney. He knew John had hurt him, but right now, when he was shaking lightly and too weak to even hold his head up, it was honestly hard to imagine.

"How did you even make it here?" Rodney asked, genuinely curious. Rodney could feel each of John's shuddering breaths, and it was difficult to imagine him having the strength necessary to make it all the way to the lab.

John's good shoulder quivered in a shrug.

"Walked," he mumbled.

Rodney sighed. "Thank you, Captain Obvious," he said, but without the sting he might have usually given the words.

"I'm a _Major_." Somehow, even as quiet as the words were, John managed to pack in a world of falsely wounded pride.

Despite himself, Rodney laughed and dragged John another half-step. John stumbled along beside him, legs trembling almost too much to take his weight.

"Well, _Major_ , I'd watch my tone if I were you. I could always just leave you here and call Beckett."

Joh's bony shoulder went rigid, and Rodney felt John's hair scrape at his neck as John shook his head emphatically.

"Don't," John whispered, sounding almost scared. For the hundredth time that night, Rodney felt an uncomfortable quiver of guilt deep inside his stomach.

"Don't worry," Rodney said softly. "Of course I won't."

"Good," John murmured, and Rodney found himself taking all of Sheppard's weight as the Major relaxed and sagged against him. He staggered for a moment, adjusting to the sudden increase in weight, but after a moment's struggle he got John situated and continued down the hallway. Really, he knew that he should probably call Beckett. Even with the weight loss, John was heavy, and he seemed to be all limbs. Rodney was a little worried that he was going to drop him, or something else equally unfortunate.

But John had sounded distressed enough by the prospect of being left to Carson that Rodney wasn't about to abandon him here. Rodney hauled John's left arm a little more firmly over his shoulders and took another step.

* * *

Everything had gone a little fuzzy. John had held it together long enough to make it to Rodney's lab, long enough to talk to Rodney. He'd held on until the wary look had left Rodney's eyes.

After that, everything that he'd been resolutely pushing away made itself known. His broken ribs were like a vise, shooting stabbing pains across his chest every time he tried to take a breath. Even strapped down as it was, his right shoulder was throbbing in time to every stuttered breath, and his legs were having trouble holding his weight.

It was a good thing that Rodney was there, John thought dimly. The world had turned fairly blurry at the edges, and John was no longer quite sure where he was, but he could feel Rodney's arm around his waist, holding him upright.

"Wait," John said suddenly as the world seemed to shift faintly under his feet.

"What is it?" Rodney asked.

"Can we...stop for a second?" The pain had all of a sudden gone from bad to worse, and even the slightest movement was making him so lightheaded he was worried he was going to either pass out or vomit.

Rodney didn't say anything. He was clearly too focused on easing John down. John barely had to do any work at all as he felt himself lowered to the floor. It didn't feel...pleasant, but that seemed to be simply because he was so injured and sick. It was no fault of Rodney's. Rodney was almost impossibly gentle with him now, so gentle it was almost strange. John felt a hand on his shoulder, leaning him back against the wall, and then one on the back of his skull, putting his head between his knees.

The stillness helped some. John felt the worst of the dizziness recede, although the pain was no better. He knew he had to get back to the infirmary, preferably yesterday. Whatever drugs Carson had given him seemed to have mostly worn off, and John knew if he didn't want Rodney to have to call a med team to come collect him, he needed to take advantage of the rapidly shrinking window in which he could move.

"We should get going," Rodney said after a moment of silence. "Otherwise...someone's going to find us here, Beckett, or Teyla. They won't be very happy if they do."

John nodded slightly, and managed to keep from groaning as Rodney tugged him to his feet. He had a vaguely remembered that Rodney's arm was still broken, and a pang of guilt shot through John like nausea. He tried to take some of his own weight, to keep from hurting Rodney more, but his legs were weak and shaky beneath him and Rodney wouldn't let go.

They made their way back to the infirmary without John actually needing to sit down again, although it was a close thing. By the time they were walking through the last hallway, John was reeling against Rodney's side, barely aware of which way was up.

"Come on, Sheppard," he was vaguely aware of Rodney mumbling. "Just a little bit farther. Oh god, I'm going to end up in _so_ much trouble…."

John dimly thought that _he_ was going to be the one that would end up in trouble. He had a horrifying image of both Teyla and Carson lecturing him, no doubt with Weir standing behind them, looking equally disappointed. He grimaced.

"Beckett is going to _kill_ me, you know," Rodney informed him. John smiled slightly and tuned the rest of Rodney's diatribe out. At this point, he was relieved just to be hearing Rodney complain.

* * *

Sheppard was almost entirely deadweight now. It was a good thing that they were back at the infirmary, because Rodney didn't think that he could go on for much longer. Well, a good thing in some ways.

Rodney paused outside the door, steeling himself to face Beckett's wrath. It probably wasn't a good idea to piss off the head of medicine, especially not considering how often Rodney found himself sitting in Carson's office. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to have much of a choice.

Cautiously, Rodney pushed the door open. Much to his surprise, Beckett didn't immediately leap out, spitting a stream of incomprehensible Scottish curses. Rodney readjusted John's limp body and edged slowly into the infirmary.

He was greeted by a soft beeping, coming from an empty bed at the far end of the room. The sheets were pushed off onto the floor, and wires had been strewn haphazardly across the mattress. It appeared that John's escape had somehow gone unnoticed.

As quietly as he could, Rodney began the laborious process of dragging John across the room. He let John slump into the bed, then retrieved the blankets. He hesitated for a moment, and then piled them back on top of John. He looked awfully cold.

Upon the addition of the blankets, John stirred. His eyes opened sleepily, and he blinked up at Rodney.

"'M I in trouble?"

"Not if we play our cards right," Rodney said grimly.

"Where's Beckett?" John murmured, through a yawn.

As if John had summoned him, the Scotsman appeared in the door of his office, stifling a yawn of his own. His eyes scanned the room, narrowing as they fell on Rodney.

"Rodney? What are you doing here?" Carson advanced across the room towards them, beginning to glare daggers as the beeping made itself known. "Major, why isn't your IV in?"

John's eyes went vaguely panicked, and Rodney interrupted smoothly before he could answer.

"My fault, I'm afraid. He needed to get to the bathroom, and I couldn't find you, and what did you expect me to do exactly-"

Carson cut him off with a weary wave of the hand, and Rodney subsided with no small amount of relief. "Next time it happens, call me. He's still weak, and he's not really supposed to be walking around just yet. We have a nurse with a wheelchair for just this purpose."

Rodney's eyes widened at the idea of John in a wheelchair, and he wondered briefly if Carson was insane. John would rather sneak out of the infirmary every time he had to use the bathroom then consent to a wheelchair.

Rodney also fought back a sudden pang of guilt. He had known John was in bad shape still, but he truly had not realized he was so weak he needed a wheelchair to go to the bathroom. If he had known that, Rodney would like to think he would have come visit John when Teyla had initially asked him to, in an attempt to mitigate the exact situation that had just happened.

He'd like to think he would have. In reality, he knew he hadn't thought John cared enough about him to traipse across Atlantis with a fever and injured shoulder just to apologize.

He looked very small now, rehooked up to all the tubes and wires he had pulled out to escape, wrapped in so many blankets Rodney could only see his pale face and tuft of dark hair. Rodney desperately hoped he hadn't done any permanent damage to himself through all that walking. Knowing the stupid Major, it didn't seem out of the realm of possibility.

Carson cleared his throat slightly, making Rodney jump. He realized that he had been standing there for...longer than was probably appropriate, just looking down at John.

"I think the lad's asleep," Carson said gently. "He might be out for a while."

"Oh," Rodney said. "Right."

Rodney started to leave, resolving to come back later that day, if only to prove to Teyla that he had, and she didn't need to bother him anymore.

"Rodney?" Carson asked as he was exiting. Rodney paused.

"It was...good of you to visit," Carson said. "He-"

Carson trailed off. Rodney nodded slightly. He understood. Despite everything, he was not planning on leaving John alone again.

But for now, John needed to sleep. So Rodney left as quietly as he could, feeling better than he had in days.

* * *

Teyla hadn't managed to find Rodney. Eventually, she had grown so weary that she forced herself to return to her room, just to catch a few hours of sleep. If she had found Rodney then, she was slightly worried about what she might have done.

She woke up feeling refreshed, and decided to visit John before she went looking for Rodney again. Outside the infirmary, she paused, hearing voices from within. One of them sounded suspiciously like….

"Rodney?"

Rodney looked up from where he was seated next to John's bed, playing what seemed to be some sort of card game with John. Surprisingly, Ford was there too, looking somewhat more relaxed than he had for the past few days.

"Teyla," Rodney said, a little awkwardly.

John, propped up on pillows and looking slightly less loopy, gave Teyla a goofy smile. "Came to see me last night."

Rodney cleared his throat, apparently finding his cards very interesting.

"Yes, well," he mumbled. "I, uhh, I suppose you got through to me."

John grinned and shot Rodney a conspiratory look that did not go unnoticed in the slightest by Teyla. But whatever reckless/ill-advised/downright stupid thing the two of them had done, it seemed to have brought them back to normal. In Teyla's book, that was worth it.

Teyla smiled softly and pulled up a third chair beside John's bed. "What are you playing?"

"Poker," John said happily. "McKay is losing."

Rodney sniffed angrily. "It might be easier to concentrate if I had the use of both of my arms. Not to mention the pain medication that Carson gave me earlier…."

Teyla tensed, glancing towards John, wondering how he'd take the - in her opinion - rather tasteless comment.

She needn't have worried. John merely glanced down at his own arm, still strapped across his chest, then back up at Rodney. He raised an eyebrow.

"Ah, yes, McKay. Only having one hand. That must be horrible. I can't imagine."

Ford spluttered into laughter, and Rodney turned slightly red-faced in manufactured indignation.

Teyla smiled again and pulled her chair closer. "I would like to play. Will you 'deal me in?'"

"Fuck, she's gonna clean us out," John said under his breath to Rodney and Ford.

"I'm about to stage a comeback," Rodney said stiffly, and John quirked an eyebrow again. Predictably, Rodney began to loudly defend his poker playing skills, and Ford challenged him. John just watched the two of them, a smile growing on his face.

Teyla collected her cards and watched John watching them. For the first time since they'd found him in that cave, she felt like she could breathe properly again. The haunted look had left John's eyes, and things were finally getting back to normal.

"Let's play already," John said impatiently. "McKay, Teyla's gonna kick your ass."

Teyla grinned and sat back in her chair, enjoying the feeling of her team around her.


End file.
